Purebloods in the North
by Esme's Favorite Daughter
Summary: Igor Karkaroff has been described as cruel, cold. But what if that isn't all of who he is? Here is the story of a young Lestrange that found that life can be warm and happy in the arctic north of Durmstrang. Rating and title subject to change.
1. Prologue

**(A/N) This is my first attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction and, as my pen name implies, I'm more familiar with Twilight fanfiction.**

**In this story I will be taking some _liberties_ with the characterization of Igor Karkaroff. The reason I feel comfortable taking these liberties in a serious story is that his character is never given much of a voice in the books or the movies. So, he's almost a blank canvas.**

**Summary:**** Karkaroff has been described as cruel, cold. But what if that isn't all of who he is? Here is the story of a young Lestrange that found that life can be warm and happy in the arctic north of Durmstrang.**

Prologue

"_Crucio!_" Bellatrix screamed, pointing her wand at the sobbing infant on the floor. The other Death Eaters watched on in various stages of amusement.

As they were rather preoccupied with their 'sport', none of them took notice of the door to the hall opening and closing. Or to the angry Russian purposefully striding into the room.

"_Expelliarmus! Levicorpus!_" He rushed to the now shaking infant and rounded on Bella, "She's your _**daughter**_! How could you do such a thing?"

"It was simply too easy, as she _is_ unable to fight back. If you'd like, I could give you lessons." She said with a giggle.

"You disgust me. And you," he snarled, turning to face the Dark Lord, "You allow this? Truly, I could see if she was a muggleborn, or even a half-blood- but she's not! Not only is her blood pure, but she's also from a line of extremely loyal followers."

"How my servants parent is not any of my concern. And you would do well to remember your place," Voldermort drawled.

"Why...you... _Crucio!_"

"_Accio wand_," came a voice from the shadows, just before the Russian could do anything that would be highly regrettable.

Severus Snape stepped from the darkness and made his way over to where an undoubtedly bloody duel would have happened. "Karkaroff, I hardly think fighting would resolve the issue. Perhaps you should take the child and leave. Take her back to Russia, stay there for awhile. At least until things settle down between yourself and Bellatrix. Would that be agreeable My Lord? Bella?"

When both nodded their assent, Snape gestured for Karkaroff to be off with the child. Karkaroff smiled briefly at Snape before gathering the little girl in his arms and swiftly leaving the hall of unspeakable tortures.

Karkaroff fled in a swirl of black robes before anyone could change their mind. It seemed quite unreal to him that there would be no objection to his leaving with the only child of a proud and ancient line.

_'Surely there should have been more fighting,'_ he thought, _'She's a __Lestrange__ for God's sakes!'_ It was only then that he realized that he had no idea what the child's name was. All he knew was that she was the daughter of Bellatrix and, obviously, of pure blood.

"I suppose I'll have to name you myself, little one," he said in soft, broken English to the baby in his arms. The only problem was, he had no idea about baby names let alone how to raise a child.

But as the child stirred in a slumber induced by the sleeping drought he had given her, none of that seemed to matter. He was what she had; she depended on him.

**(A/N) This is of course only the prologue. I plan on posting the first true chapter in maybe an hour or two- just to give this sometime to catch on. Oh, and as a nice little side note, the child is going to be just about the same age as Viktor Krum. And yes, that will be important.**

**(A/N 2)Just a question I had been thinking about: Should the Lestrange girl call Igor "Uncle Igor" or some variation of "Father"(Dad, Daddy, Pa, etc.)?**

**Reviews make my day!**


	2. Chapter 1: Ready to let go?

**(A/N)I've used dates from the actual series and I may have gotten my math wrong and for that I apologize. Also this chapter is set on the Friday before the start of the new school term.**

* * *

Chapter 1

The years flew by in a blur of diapers and bedtime stories. Before he could regain his balance from the whirlwind of the last eleven years, it was time to send his little girl off to school.

"But Daddy,"she whined, "it's not really going _off _to school! I've lived at Durmstrang my entire life!"

"I know Acantha. But, the difference is that you won't just be living here. You've always been able to scamper off to your room if the boys were mean to you, but know you'll have to deal with them whether you like it or not."

The door creaked open and any tenderness or civility that the Headmaster possessed was gone in an instant. "What?" he snarled, glaring harshly at the man who would dare disturb him.

"I'm ss-so sss-sorry sir, so sorry," the servant stuttered as he bowed his head deeply, "But, sir, you have a guest and she sent me to fetch you."

"Oh, is that so?" he drawled, "Well where, pray tell, is my _unexpected_ guest?"

"She is in your office sir."

"Then that shall be all. Out!" As the servant hurriedly left the room, Igor turned back to Acantha- the kindness and patience of a parent replacing the anger he displayed only moments before. "Dear, I want you to stay here in your rooms. I am not sure who this visitor is, but it is better safe than sorry."

With a pat on her shoulder, he left the room in a flourish of billowing robes.

* * *

As Karkaroff left the room, he mentally ran through a list of all the people that he could find when he would enter his office.

Snape? No, he would have come directly to Acantha's rooms.

Krum Senior? No, no, no. The servant said _she._

Bellatrix? She's in Azkaban, thank God.

Minerva trying to convince him to send Acantha to Hogwarts again? Probably not.

The list should have ended, but somehow he managed to get to his office without finishing. How could such a private man be at such a loss for _any_ idea as to who his visitor was.

Any mental lectures in preparation that he could have given himself could have never prepared him for who he saw in one of the few guest chairs in the room.

Narcissa Malfoy.

* * *

Acantha flopped down on the couch with a sigh. She was eleven years old! Her father had no _right_ to treat her like a child!

Her common room was stunningly decorated, now that she thought about it. Done in various shades of red, and the ever present black, it was comforting. The couch she sat on was upholstered in black velvet trimmed with red along the back. The carpet was a deep shade of red, like a fine red wine. The walls were a half shade lighter and had faint gray stripes. The fireplace across from Acantha was an elaborate experiment with the mixture of brick and marble. The most prominent piece of decoration in the room was by far the Durmstrang crest that hung above the mantle.

Many hours had been spent in contemplation of all that it meant. The proud, the strong, the mighty. Acantha had often dreamt what it would be like to finally be a part of that, an actual student.

Now that day was here...and she didn't know what to make of it. She wanted to be able to sit alongside the proud sons of Durmstrang. Then again, she was feeling a bit apprehensive. She knew all of her professors on an almost first name basis(she didn't use their first names though, simply out of respect), so the teachers judging her wasn't an issue. The students were another matter entirely. She was going to be the only girl in a school full of boys. She had seen first hand how cruel and calculating they could be and as loathe as she was to admit it, it was a little scary. Scary as the situation was, she'd never admit that to her father. She _hated_ admitting being wrong.

With another sigh, Acantha stood and made her way to the bookcase that stretched the length of the wall opposite the door. The was no use in being ill-prepared for her first official day of school.

* * *

"Narcissa, what a surprise."

"Is it? Did you honestly expect that I would let you leave the country with my niece and not give it a second thought?"

"Honestly? Yes I did. Severus has been her on numerous occasions, the Dark Lord himself wrote once, and even Lucius drops by a few times a year. I wasn't sure that you remembered Acantha, or even her existence."

A look of shock and disappointment, be it true or feigned, was clearly defined on Narcissa's face. "You think I could forget the only niece I have? And for you information her name isn't Acantha it is Calantha."

"What about Nymphadora? As she didn't, to my knowledge, have a name when I took her in I gave her one. Her name shall stay as it is.

Narcissa was completely aghast at Karkaroff's bold statements. She wasn't able to _comprehend_ that he was claiming that she had no rights with her own family. When her sister had been thrown in Azkaban several years ago, she felt it her duty to take over Calantha's care. The only reason she had stayed away for so long was because Lucius told her that the girl was quite happy living at Durmstrang and that she was _extremely _well cared for. He just forgot to mention that the idiotic Russian was not going to part with her.

Igor watched the emotions that played on the blond woman's face and chuckled to himself. He always found it rather amusing to watch people realize that they had lost;that they had been totally and utterly defeated. She had obviously deluded herself if she thought her would part with his daughter. He didn't mind setting her straight though.

"Narcissa, whether you like it or not, _Acantha_ will be going to school here. I've seen her play qudditch as well and I fully intented to draft her as my team's keeper. You can accept it and try to embrace some sort of relationship with her or you can leave. I believe you know where the door is." With a final dismissive wave of his hand he settled behind a stack of entrance papers that needed to be completed before the students arrived for the start of the term.

Narcissa was not an ignorant woman. She knew when she had been dismissed, she just didn't like it. In a calm and dignified manner she left the room and although it wouldn't be the last time she would involve herself in Acantha's life, it was the last time she would take such an aggressive interest in the girl.

* * *

**(A/N)Once again, I'd like to say that reviews are always welcome. I'd appreciate any plot suggestions, but I would love a review even if it's to just remind me to update or yell at me for having a stupid idea.**


	3. Chapter 2: Family Drama Malfoy Style

**(A/N)In this chapter, we receive a visit from our favorite pure blood supremest- Lucius Malfoy. He is slightly different from the portrayal in the books and movies, but I did that on purpose and with a reason. **

**There is some mild coarse language in this chapter, but I felt it was necessary to accurately portray the Malfoy family.**

* * *

Chapter 2

Acantha sat staring almost blankly at the book before her. _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy _ was just not able to hold her interest. With a groan of disgust she slammed the book shut and tossed it towards the end table to the right of the fireplace, not really caring if it hit the table or the floor.

"Did they inaccurately portray our family again? Insufferable fools," a velvety, aristocratic voice drawled from the general direction of the thrown volume.

Acantha's eyes snapped open as she ran across the room and threw her arms around the tall blond. "Uncle Lucius!!"

"I am glad to see you as well my little angel. Of course, knowing you, you probably want to know why I'm here. Your Aunt Narcissa was here last evening and I know how she can be; I wanted to make sure you were ok," he said with an unusual note of concern gracing his voice.

Acantha stepped back a few paces so that she could look her uncle in the eye. "Aunt Narcissa was here? I didn't see her," her voice trailing off as she looked around the room, weighing the possibility of the woman still being there.

"Then she must have come to speak with Igor. I wouldn't worry about it,"a dismissive wave of his hand accentuated his point, "Besides, I've come to speak with you about your schooling- not your Aunt."

"Are you going to try and convince me to go to Beauxbatons too?"

"That pitiful excuse for a school? Heavens no! I'm offended at the very thought that any relation of mine would be schooled by those moronic harlots, they're worse than that bat Dumbledore. No, I came to offer you the option of being taught by myself and a select group of tutors at the Manor. Or, if that is not appealing, to ensure that you were ready to start here at Durmstrang."

"Would I have to deal with Narcissa?" The girl harbored a true dislike for her, but Lucius was at a loss as to why.

"No more than necessary,"came his smooth reply, without missing a beat.

"Then I'd have to say it's a tempting offer. I'll think about it."

"Good, now I must be off. I have business to attend to," and with a final kiss to Acantha's forehead and a rare and genuine smile that would have made many of his peers faint, he turned and returned to the floo and stepped into the bright green flames.

* * *

"You did what?" Narcissa's voice was carefully restrained, only just able to conceal her anger.

Lucius didn't miss it though, "I told Acantha that she was welcome to come and stay here at the Manor and that I would personally see to her education.,"

"Why would you do such a thing?"

He continued as though she hadn't interrupted, "To be honest, I don't see why the two of you harbor so many hatreds for each other."

Their quarrel was halted by the entrance of young Draco Malfoy. Even as a small boy of about seven, he was constantly striving for his parents love. He hated it when they argued because it so often meant that, even though neither would come straight out and say it, he would be forced to choose a side.

"Mummy, Father, why are you fighting?"

Narcissa heard the tremor that was forming in her son's voice. Normally she would do just about everything in her power to calm and comfort him, but today she felt vindictive enough to hurt her husband by making their son look at him with emotions far less than admiration in his eyes.

"Draco we're not-"

"Dear, your father and I _are_ fighting, but I want you to know that it's not your fault," Lucius felt mild relief at this, but his opinion swiftly changed, "Your father just happens to love your cousin Acantha more than you. I will always love you and I expect that when Acantha comes here to live with us that you will treat her with the utmost respect."

"Daddy?" Draco asked, the tears that had been collecting in his eyes falling out of his gray eyes and over his pale cheeks.

"Son,"Lucius said, kneeling down to be at his son's eye level, "I could _never_ love anyone more than you; you're my son. Your mother is just saying things that she doesn't mean."

"But, why would she say it if it wasn't true? Why would Mummy lie?"

Lucius sighed, he really didn't want to say anything that would harm Draco's opinion of Narcissa, his own feelings for her aside. "She's not really lying Draco, Mummy is just mad at me. You know that she doesn't always approve of things I do, right? Well this is just another one of those times."

"So it's not true? Acantha _isn't _coming to live with us?"

"Your cousin _may_ come to stay with us. Would it be so bad if she did?"

"YES!" Draco screamed as he ran out of the room in tears.

* * *

"You bitch," Lucius snarled, cutting across the room to tower over where his wife sat, "How _dare_ you speak that way? I shall ensure you pay for you foolishness."

"I felt it was important that Draco hear the truth about how you feel about him."

"Don't profess to know how I feel or think about _anything_, witch. You know nothing."

"I don't? Well then, why don't you tell me why you are reacting so defensively if it's not the truth,"Narcissa replied, her tone calm and only the occasional flicker across her ice-blue eyes betraying the fear she felt at her husband's aggressive stance.

Lucius clenched his fist in an effort to remain calm, he wasn't a physically violent man and had _never_ lashed out in anger against his wife or son. Helpless muggles, sure; his family, not a chance.

"What Lucius? No witty response? How unfortunate,"she drawled.

"Enough," Lucius said in a voice that was deadly quiet, a voice that many knew to be your final warning when dealing with a true Slytherin.

Narcissa either didn't hear his near silent warning, or choose to ignore it and test his limits. "I would have thought that you were intelligent, although your constant association with blood-traitors seems to have clouded your judgment."

"I SAID ENOUGH!" Lucius bellowed, punctuating his outburst by striking Narcissa across the face.

Pain, shock, and disbelief marred Narcissa's features in much the same way that guilt did to Lucius'. Neither of them could believe that he had just hit her. The red hand print slowly appearing on Narcissa's left cheek, however, proved that the whole, awful scene really _did _happen.

"Cissy, I-"

"Don't Lucius. I'm going to have one of the house elves ready a guest bedroom for my use, and I fully intend to stay there. At the very least until further notice," she stated in a detached tone as she rose and walked from the room with as much dignity as she could rouse in the situation.

Lucius stared at the door until it had fully closed behind her. He waited a few moments before turning to the nearest object, a priceless family vase, drawing his wand and shattering it.

* * *

Lucius could only allow himself a few minutes of fuming before he realized the time and his other obligations. He was still angry, but was forced to put on a convincing public persona so that no one would ask uncomfortable questions.

He flooed to the ministry and promptly walked into someone who was standing on the other side of the fireplace.

"I would suggest that you stay well out of the way of others Weasley. It wouldn't do for you to get yourself into trouble would it?"

"Is that a threat Malfoy?"

"Consider it a public service announcement,"Lucius sneered as he strode down the hall towards the office of the Minister of Magic.

He despised these visits to the Ministry;they were almost always pointless. It didn't help that he had to put on the innocent aristocrat face every time he was forced to be around these imbeciles. Most of them knew he was a Death Eater, or had strong suspicions, yet he still had to pretend he wasn't. Rarely does denying a part of who you are not take a heavy toll. The same was true for Lucius; this toll was one of the many reasons he took to drinking.

'_Gods, to have a drink now would be simply divine,'_Lucius thought as he came to a stop in front of the Minister's door. Sighing and sealing in place his calm exterior, Lucius knocked on the door and waited to be admitted.

* * *

Millicent Bagnold had never been fond of any of the Malfoys. She was convinced that they were a bunch of evil traitors. Bloody Death Eater traitors at that. So one can imagine that the fact that on a nearly weekly basis Lucius Malfoy was in her office pretending to be an innocent and concerned citizen was rather unsettling for her.

She couldn't right out and throw him from the Ministry though. Death Eater or not, he was still a respected, and extremely well off, member of the community. It would cause a public outrage if he was treated so deplorably. Oh well, you couldn't blame her for trying, or wishing.

She heard the knock on her door and groaned loudly. This was one of the few reasons she had to dislike Saturdays. The show must go on though.

"Come in," she called in a falsely cheerful voice.

The door opened, reveling Lucius(_'Who else would it be?'_ _she thought._) still as regal as ever and still with the cane that mystified many. From what Millicent could gather, not very many people knew why he was so reluctant to part with it. Any answer she got was normally something mostly incoherent and mumbled about "family traditions". Not that she'd ever bothered to ask the man himself; that would be almost like asking for the Crutatius curse. The worst part is that he'd probably get away with it too.

"What can I do for you Mr. Malfoy?"

"Can't I just stop by to pay a social call?" seeing her disbelieving look, he said, "Not that I would, of course; you and I both know that. I was coming to see about the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team."

"Oh? What about them? If you were interested in scores and such you wouldn't be in _my _office."

"I was coming to see about the age at which a player could be drafted to the aforementioned team."

Millicent laughed, "But Mr. Malfoy, Draco is only seven!" Lucius's only response was a single delicately arched eyebrow. "Players in any National Quidditch team can be drafted starting at age eleven."

"Good."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" _'Please let him just leave'_

"Is my annual donation to the Ministry sufficient? Or should I arrange for an increase?"

"It is quite sufficient for its purpose."'_Pompous bastard_'

"Fabulous, then I shall be off." With a slight bow of the head, he turned and left the room, leaving a quite relieved Minister of Magic in his wake.

* * *

Once he was again in the hall, anyone who had seen him would have been shocked beyond belief. In a rare moment of weakness, he let down his mask of indifference and perpetual boredom. He seemed to have aged a number of years in those few moments it took for him to gather his breath and recompose his facial expressions.

* * *

Former Death Eaters knew the toll that having a false identity took. Igor Karkaroff was no exception. They all had to pretend to be someone they were not and Karkaroff had it just as hard as anyone else.

Well, maybe not _anyone_ else. Malfoy had to put on the public face and Snape was a spy. At least Karkaroff had the benefit of his colleagues at Durmstrang, and the parents of his students, knowing and accepting that part of his past. They all accepted that he took the Mark, but not all of them were as forgiving about the fact that he was willing to rat out a number of fellow Death Eaters to save himself. Their concern was that if he so easily turned on his "brothers", how fast would he turn on them?

He often had this inner dialog as he sat alone in his office. He would _never_ forgive himself for taking the Mark. It was one of the worst mistakes of his life. Although if he hadn't taken the Mark, he wouldn't have ever been able to rescue Acantha. So maybe taking the Mark wasn't the mistake, but his actions while under the Dark Lord's command most assuredly were.

A sharp rap on his office door pulled him from his thoughts. Into his office walked none other than fellow former Death Eater and shaky acquaintance Lucius Malfoy.

"What grand timing Malfoy! I was just thinking about you."

"Aren't you worried that Rosier will be jealous?" Lucius asked with a slight leer and raised eyebrow.

"No, we have an open relationship," Igor returned, "What do you need today?"

"Believe it or not, I came to speak with you about Quidditch."

"What of it?"

"I've heard that you are in need of a Keeper for this upcoming season and I have a proposition for you."

Igor snorted, "Please. Your far too old and Draco's too young. Not to mention the fact that I have _never_ seen either of you fly. For all I know, you may not be able to even get the broom off the ground!"

"If you would stop interrupting me, you might be able to hear my full proposal before you jump to conclusions. I wish for Acantha to join the team- you know she can fly and she'd be perfect for the position."

"Well, maybe if you'd talk to your wife once in a while, you'd know that I already intended to draft Acantha on to the team. I've seen her play, sometimes she even plays with the school teams. She's much too talented to be wasted on a _school _team, even if it is Durmstrang."

"It's good that we see eye to eye on this. I'll be keeping up with the team through the news and don't be surprised if I show up at a game or two." Satisfied that he had accomplished what he set out to do, Lucius turned to the fireplace on the west side of the room, and returned to the Manor.

* * *

**(A/N) Why didn't he floo directly to the office you may ask, well because that would be rude. I'd appreciate any reviews or suggestions on how I could make my story better. Reviews make my day after all!**


	4. Chapter 3: Doing the Family Name Proud

**(A/N) Sentences in italics are thoughts.**

Chapter 3

After her uncle left, Acantha lounged back on the couch and thought about his offer. She'd always liked her uncle, he really was a nice guy once you got passed all of the I'm-an-evil-Death-Eater-and-I-want-nothing-more-than-to torture-and-kill-those-who-are-beneath-me crap. But, she was quite certain that her aunt wouldn't like her coming to stay at the Manor and the feeling was mutual.

However, it would take care of her potential problems with the other students. If they weren't there, she wouldn't have to worry about them. She didn't know about her cousin though, he might turn out to be worse than any of the Durmstrang students. The opening of her door brought her out of her thoughts. She noticed that when Karkaroff walked in, he didn't have the same demeanor he normally did. He seemed cold, detached, mean even. And every bit like everyone said he was.

"Acantha, I need to speak with you," he sat down on a chair to the right of the couch, "I believe that we should further discuss your educational plans."

She saw where this was going long before it got there. She knew she needed to do some damage control. "What do you mean Daddy? I thought you said I could stay here for school."

"Acantha, I think we both know that you would have better opportunities elsewhere. You could be with people who like you more than your peers here will and I'm sure the Malfoys will give you a better education."

"What if I say I disagree?" She couldn't help but challenge him, even if the current situation said it would not be wise to do so.

Karkaroff steeled his face even more, "I had hoped I wouldn't have to say this. I'm sorry, but I simply cannot stand your presence in my life any longer. I truly wanted for you to just agree and be off to England."

"Why you ignorant prat!" Acantha screamed as angry tears threatened to roll down her face, "I don't know what has gotten into you, but there's no need to be an arse!" Seeing his expression of calm and slight boredom, she leaped up from her seat and ran to the fireplace. She grabbed the container of floo powder off the mantle and threw some into the fire.

She stepped into the flames and called out her destination clearly. "Tonks Residence!"

As she spun out of sight, tears welled up in Karkaroff's eyes because he didn't know if her would ever see his little girl again.

* * *

Acantha stumbled out of the fireplace and looked around her aunt's sitting room. She may have been in Slytherin during her years at Hogwarts, but apparently she missed "How To Decorate Like A Stuffy Pure-blood: 101".

The room had a home-like feel to it; you could tell that people actually lived there. The walls and floors were blue- the walls were half a shade lighter only so that one didn't get dizzy trying to find where one ended and the other began. The well-worn couch and comfortable armchairs were a pale yellow, but from age or design Acantha wasn't quite sure. Family portraits of Andromeda, Ted, Dora and, strangely enough, Acantha were strewn across the mantle and stacks of newspapers and magazines covered the coffee table.

Acantha wandered out into the rest of the house and saw that the rest of the rooms were empty. She didn't know whether to be upset or glad; it was good they weren't here to see her like she was now, but she wanted someone to talk to. She decided to make the best of it and brewed a cup of tea before returning to the sitting room.

She flopped down into one of the chairs and was promptly lost in thought.

* * *

_(Acantha's point of view, thoughts)_

_ I can't believe he'd do that! Why would he do it? I know he doesn't mean it; he loves me even if I'm not really his daughter. I bet that whore Narcissa had something to do with this. She can't stand to see me happy, even if it would hurt her for me to be upset. _

_ But...What if it is true? What if he just can't stand me? I have been an awful nuisance...and he's right- my peers at Durmstrang probably won't like me..._

_ Maybe I should just go live at the Manor. Uncle Lucius cares about me, even though his wife doesn't. He made an offer to take me in even though it would result in a lot of problems for him...Draco has always sort of liked me too..._

_** No! **Stop thinking like that! He can't have meant what he said. You'll just have to go back to Durmstrang, track him down, and force him to admit he was wrong. He'll let you back, he always does._

_ But what if he doesn't? What then?_

_ Well you'll go talk to another teacher won't you? They all enjoy your presence and want for you to be a student there._

_ They won't risk angering him._

_ You are so stupid sometimes... Of course they will! They always make him angry anyway._

_ My peers still won't like me._

_ And you think that that will be any better in England?_

_ Well no...but..._

_ But what?_

_ Here it'll just really be myself and the Malfoys. Besides I know for a fact that nobody here would dare challenge my uncle._

_ Ah yes, because a life of social isolation is the solution to everything._

_ You saw Daddy's face- he's done. That's the face he uses just before he expels a student or fires a teacher._

_ Grow a spine and confront him. What's wrong with you; you hardly live up to any name you have a biological connection to. They'd all confront him. Black, Lestrange, Karkaroff, Malfoy..._

_ Fine! If it'll shut you up I'll do it!_

_ Good girl._

* * *

"Acantha honey? Is something wrong?" Andromeda stepped through the door and looked worriedly at her niece.

"What? Oh yea, I'm fine," said Acantha, shaking her head to get her focus back on reality.

"Then why are you sitting on the couch staring off into space with a tea cup in your hand?"

"Hmmm...I am doing that aren't I? I meant that I'm ok now, I was just having some problems with Daddy and I needed to get away from Durmstrang for a while."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Right now I think I need to go back and handle this my way. Time to make the family name proud and all that." With that she stepped through the green flames and disappeared.

* * *

"Gods kids are weirdos! I hope I wasn't like that when I was her age," Dora exclaimed from the doorway.

"Trust me dear, you were worse," a passing Ted said as Andromeda tried to stifle a giggle.

"I was not!" Dora wined as her hair changed from her cheerful bubblegum pink to a shade of angry red.

The laughter of both her parents could be heard ringing through the house, because she clearly _was_ much worse as a child.

* * *

** (A/N) Sorry it took so long for me to update! I've been unmotivated to write as I've been stressing a lot over things I probably should ignore.**

** A big thanks goes to ****mahsaff who reminded me that people are reading and want to know what happens next. Also thanks to my other reviewers: toujourspurPAL , ooosk, and Danielle.**

** Reviews are much appreciated, as are plot suggestions and corrections to my far from perfect writing.**


	5. Chapter 4: Kicking Ass and Taking Names

Chapter 4

With a start, Karkaroff looked up from the lesson plans he was revising for the Potions professor. Even after a decade of teaching, the idiot didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing.

The door to his office slammed open and hit the wall behind it with such force that the oak of the door splintered slightly down the middle. The paneling behind that had been carefully designed by the original Headmaster was likely in a state of destruction.

That wasn't as surprising to him as one would think it to be; he'd had the door to his office - and even private sleeping chambers - blasted apart so many times he'd lost count. No, what surprised him was _who_ was standing in the corridor outside, doing the blasting.

Acantha stood on the cold black tile, unadulterated rage in her face and bearing. She held herself as any decent Death Eater, or Slytherin for that matter, was likely to. The posture was awe-inspiring and slightly unsettling in an adult, it was mind-numbingly, sensory-overwhelmingly terrifying in a child. Her right hand which held her wand went over and behind her head in typical Slytherin battle pose. He idly wondered where she had gathered so many _Slytherin_ habits as she vanished his desk and wrapped him in extremely tight magical bonds.

With his desk out of the way, his chair was left in nearly the middle of the room and allowed for space for one to walk in a full 360 degree pattern around it. Acantha stepped through the doorway and strutted in, wand never dropping, posture never faltering. She came to a halt about a yard from him and regarded him coldly for several minutes before slowly making her was around him.

She was moving at less than a snail's pace, and patience and accepting anticipation were never his strong points. She knew that, and exploited it; he knew that, and also knew that she knew, and took it as an excuse to become frantic. His thoughts buzzed a mile a minute: Had she been put under the Imperious Curse? No, the only one not in prison that would Imperio a child is Lucius and he loves her too much to hurt her. Did Dumbledore or some such moron tell her he was working on the return of the Dark Lord to power? Unlikely, she wouldn't believe it. Could he be again witnessing the Lestrange family insanity? Gods he hoped not.

Acantha isn't like most of her blood relatives- she's not sadistic. Reminding herself of that fact she had to admit, at least to her own mind, that her uncle Rabastan was right. There is _no_ greater feeling than having someone tremble in fear in front of you, or at least any feeling that she had yet experienced. To see the strong Head of Durmstrang, former Potions Master, and Quidditch captain twitch should have been unnerving. It should have made her throw the entire idea out the window of the highest tower in all the universe and resign herself to a life at the Manor. But, she didn't think that way at all; she felt empowered.

* * *

After Karkaroff had sat mostly patiently for nearly an hour of Acantha's pacing, the girl began to speak.

"How dare you? What in Merlin's name made you think that _any _part of your plan was worth pursuing?" Seeing that he was not going to volunteer any explanation, she flicked her wand and a wave of blue magic cut across the air and down his back like a whip. "I _did_ ask you a question," she snarled.

"I- I don't know what you mean." Another crack of magic.

"Don't you? Are you simply a moron, or do you just play one?"

"You could just stop being a stupid chit and tell me what you're on about!"

Acantha tossed back her head and laughed at this. It was a high pitched, maniacal laugh and for a frightening moment her resemblance to her mother was clearly on display. To Igor, she didn't seem the sweet little child he'd raised for eleven years. No, this person was terrifying in a way that was laced with such an undercurrent for evil that he could almost _see_ the Mark glowing on her arm.

As abruptly as it began, the laughter stopped and she leveled a cold glare at Karkaroff. "People in glass houses dear, people in glass houses.

"You should have told me everything from the beginning. You want me gone, you want me in England, you want me to live with the Malfoys, you apparently want me to follow in the familial footsteps and become a Death Eater." Igor looked aghast at her calm tone.

"Well, I've gone news for you my friend: That is not going to happen. I'm staying here, whether or not you like it. I'll go around you if need be, the other teachers will be happy to let me stay. You're stuck with me- and to be honest it _is _your fault- so you can shut up and put up."

With a final crack of magic, she turned on her heel and left the room. Igor was so shocked he didn't even realize that he'd been left with his wand, and sat there until the Potions professor came to collect his lesson plans and released him.

* * *

Early the next morning, Karkaroff strode down the halls of Durmstrang. The few members of the faculty that were up before the sun had enough sense to move quickly and mostly inconspicuously out of his path.

He rapped on the door to Acantha's chambers once and entered without allowing time for a response. She was sitting on the floor near her coffee table, going over her notes for various classes that she had obtained by questionable methods from the professors and eating breakfast.

"Acantha, the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team is practicing tonight. Bring your broom and wear appropriate robes for playing Keeper."

"W- wait...w- what?" she stuttered as he slammed the door behind him.

Acantha couldn't believe what just happened. He spends so much time being an utter prat and then offers her a spot on the team?

_ Well, not really offered_, she mused, _he more or less told me I had to take it_.

Her surprise was hindering her ability to think properly. She knew she needed to consult an outside source, but who could be trusted to talk to her like the person she was and not just another one of the brats they were forced to teach. Sure they all liked her, but they took issue with treating her with anything other than a sense of novelty.

Then it hit her.

* * *

Twenty minutes found Acantha standing outside the office of Akelin Bazhenov, professor of Transfiguration. She'd always gotten along with Akelin, he had started teaching 6 years ago when he was fresh out of Durmstrang himself. He was the type of person she looked to as an older brother instead of an adult. He'd even taught her how to ride a broom when she was almost six.

She knocked on the door, expecting an answer. None came and she waited several minutes before knocking again, this time in addition to screaming:

"Open the blasted door you mor-"

"Looking for me dearest?" Akelin stepped out from a doorway just down the hall and looked upon the girl with teasing affection.

"Brat," Acantha returned while sticking out her tongue.

"Always." Akelin smiled as he closed the gap between the two and picked her up in a crushing hug. He had a great height advantage over her and used it to keep her suspended off the ground.

"Trying to kill me?" She gasped out from lack of air. His only response was to laugh and unlock his office door with one hand, restraining her with the other.

* * *

After depositing the troublesome little girl into a chair across from his desk, Akelin walked to the other side of the room. He well knew that tea-drinking was regarded as "a nasty English habit", unless of course said tea was throughly spiked with alcohol, but he enjoyed it all the same. He fixed himself a strong cup of Puer. Acantha didn't particularly care for it and really he couldn't blame her as it was quite...strong. Without needing to ask, he also brought over a cup of green tea for his young guest.

"So, who's the problem? Am I kicking ass or taking names?"

Acantha, who'd just taken a sip of tea, choked slightly around her giggle. Times like these reminded her why she loved him so much. "Explaining'll do just fine today."

"Uh oh, what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing! It's, well, it's Daddy."

"What about him Seafoam?"

Acantha barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the nickname. "He's been atrocious lately-"

"So I've heard."

"and then, out of nowhere, he just barged into my living room and told me to show up for Quidditch practice. What the heck?!"

"I'm not surprised about the last part."

"You aren't?"

"Nope: you're an awesome player and he's a coach. Surely he sees the potential. _I_ think you'll do great. Show those boys how it's done, ya know?"

She scoffed, "Yea, I'm _totally_ gonna serve it to a bunch of professional athletes. I appreciate the undeserved confidence."

"It's hardly undeserved. Now, why don't you shut your sarcastic little mouth and we'll play chess."

* * *

Several games of Wizard's Chess later, they finally looked up and at the clock. It was almost 6:30, and practice started at 7.

"You'd better go Seafoam."

"Bite me Blue. But you're right. I'll come back and tell you how I did, if you'll still be up."

"You'll probably be pretty beat; students show up tomorrow anyway."

"Then I'll tell you the next time I see you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and sprinted off to practice.

* * *

** (A/N) Next up: the first Quidditch practice!**

** I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sorry for not updating sooner. Thanks to all reviewers, especially Masha FF and Danielle who reviewed the last chapter.**


	6. Chapter 5: Brooms and Bolsheviks

** (A/N) All the Quidditch players, except Acantha, are going by last names only as that was what was what I could find on them and I didn't have the energy to make up first names.**

* * *

Chapter 5

Acantha ran from the room and down the halls of Durmstrang to reach her chambers and change. The robes she was wearing wouldn't work at all for Quidditch, they were too loose and would get tangled up in the broom.

When she reached her bedroom, she nearly threw herself at the wardrobe on the far wall. Robes were tossed aside unceremoniously as she searched for something to wear. When everything had been thrown from the wardrobe, Acantha stood looking at the only thing that remained: her Quidditch robes.

The robes looked very similar to the actual ones the team wore, they _were_ actual team robes- albeit from the coach that was in charge twelve years ago, before Karkaroff. More or less the same in cut and material- the older style of cape was cut closer to the body- the only major difference was the color. The new style of robes was red with black trim and black pants and shoes; the set Acantha owned was a dark forest green with silver trim and silver pants with a barely noticeable snake winding along the inside of the left leg. She couldn't have been more than four when she got the robes and had had them Transfigured every time she'd grown since. It wasn't very long after that that she asked her father about the uniform switch.

* * *

_ "Daddy?"_

_ "Yes Acantha?"_

_ "Why'd you switch the robes for the Quidditch team when you took over?"_

_ "It's tradition dear, every new coach switches them when he takes control of the team. Besides, I didn't like the colors."_

_ "Why not Daddy? Green's a pretty color; I like green."_

_ "It's a bit too...Slytherin for my taste."_

* * *

Now that she thought about it, that was the first time she'd ever heard her father speak ill about England or one of the Hogwarts houses. Not that she hasn't heard it many times since.

She slipped on her robes and began rummaging through her trunk for her broom, which was _probably_ at the bottom. She couldn't guarantee it though, it had a habit of wandering off.

She finally found it under an assortment of quills and crumpled up pieces of parchment. It was easily her most prized possession and, as she always did when she picked it up, she took a moment to admire it.

It wasn't a manufactured broom, so it didn't officially have a name, but the name of its maker was enough to earn it credibility. It was custom-made by Leonard Jewkes, maker of the Silver Arrow, and it was made about five years ago. Most brooms would have lost their efficiency and became outdated by now, but this one was different. Akelin and Karkaroff had gone to see the broom maker about it, and he had promised that the broom would be perfect for use for the rest of Acantha's life. The handle was made of mahogany like her wand, and had a charm cast on it to connect the two. As she grew or her needs in a broom adjusted, so would the broom. It was just as good, if not better, than the Moontrimmer in flying height and significantly better than the Silver Arrow in speed and handling. It completely left all the Comet, Cleansweep, and Nimbus models in the dust, but what more should you expect from a custom broom?

She remembered Akelin talking to her all about the broom while it was being made. He often laughed about how it would be perfect for trick flying, Quidditch, a flight to visit relatives, or fighting. She hadn't seen what was so funny about that until she got older and realized that there _had _been a war, but now it was over and Voldermort was gone forever.

She wondered why everyone from England got so twitchy every time she said his name, her uncle and Severus especially. She knew he was evil, but why should she or anyone else be afraid of a name? Her father said it and Akelin said it, so it couldn't be bad to say. She'd have to ask about it one day. Just like she'd have to ask about the tattoo they all had- it seemed like every adult she knew had one, well except Akelin but he wasn't _really_ an adult.

With a mental shake of the head and a shrug, Acantha mounted her broom and opened her window with a flick of her wand and swiftly flew off towards the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

The pitch wasn't very far away from the school, maybe five minutes by broom. Its location was convenient for the coaches as they were almost always Durmstrang professors and apparating long distances at night, when tired, is never a good idea.

As Acantha neared the pitch she descended and landed near the set of stands that were only there during the practice season. Seven rows high and decorated in Durmstrang colors, they offered a good view of the practice without being in the line of fire if any inexperienced players landed in the stands or hit the Bludger that way. They were mainly used by family, but occasionally some members of the press managed to stay there without being asked to leave. During tryout week, it's where the hopefuls sat, hoping to get called onto the field.

Today the stands were empty save a little girl who looked to be a few years younger that Acantha with dark brown hair pulled up into a loose bun with a bright blue ribbon threaded through. She was wearing a matching set of robes and looked extremely bored and slightly agitated about being there.

Acantha, never one to be outright rude to strangers, walked over to the stands and sat two benches below facing the girl- after checking her watch and making sure she had time. It was only 6:45.

"Hi!" Acantha said, capturing her attention, "I'm Acantha! Are you here to try out for the team?"

"Are you a mudblood or just dumb? Girls don't play Quidditch. And on that cheerful note, idiots can't talk to me. Goodbye," the girl dismissed her abruptly by simply turning away.

Acantha had a quick temper and it was often inflamed by insults. Or ignorance. This girl had just exhibited her talent with both in only three sentences. She drew her wand and pointed it at her new enemy, all the while thanking the powers that be that her uncle had taught her how to fight.

She was just about to fire off a particularly nasty jinx when she was interrupted by the appearance of a new voice behind her and to the left. The owner of the voice was a tall red-head who looked flawless in deep purple robes.

"Helga, that's no way to treat anyone: muggle-born or not," she scolded, and then turned her attention to Acantha, "I'm sorry about the way my sister's behaving. She's normally not so cruel. I'm Lada Ivanova. My brother is one of the Chasers for the team. And you are?"

"I'm Acantha Lestrange-Karkaroff," Helga gasped when she heard the first last name, but nearly fainted upon hearing the second. Her sister, Lada, managed to school her expression of shock into something more resembling mild interest, "and I'm here to tryout for the Keeper position. My father is the coach."

"Is that so? It's very nice to meet you. So, who's your tutor going to be for this school year?"

"Tutor?" Acantha asked, confused.

"Yea, your tutor. You look about 11," Acantha nodded that she was, "Well, girls always have tutors to teach them basic household spells and first aid. Who's teaching you?"

"I don't have a tutor," Lada looked mortified and was about to interrupt, when she continued, "I'm actually going to a formal wizarding school."

"Like Beauxbatons?"

"Nope, like Durmstrang!" Acantha announced proudly.

"You're about as daft as they come, aren't you?" Helga scoffed, "Girls _can't go to Durmstrang_. It's boys only. Duh, everyone knows that."

"Well, then I guess you missed the information on my lineage didn't you? My father is the Headmaster of Durmstrang, my uncle is Lucius Malfoy, and my mother is Bellatrix Lestrange. I can do whatever I damn well please." Acantha drew herself up to her full height and adopted the "pure blood stance" as her father put it once. It was an act she learned from Severus and her uncle, Severus used a slightly modified version to scare the students at Hogwarts.

Helga apparently had a modicum of intelligence, as she cringed away while Acantha was speaking. Lada's expression was torn between horror, awe, and disgust, but it seemed that awe was winning out. It wasn't often that either of the girls saw behavior like this; it was more of an English style of behavior and few pure bloods in the area were aristocratic enough to have any desire to act that way.

"If you'll excuse me, _I_ have Quidditch practice," and tossing her strawberry blond hair over her shoulder, Acantha picked up her broom and strode off to the pitch.

* * *

Acantha didn't walk very quickly, so she was surprised to see that she still had about five minutes before practice was supposed to start. She never once looked back at the girls she'd left behind.

When she entered the pitch, she crossed over to where the home team locker room was. Her father was standing there talking to a man, who she assumed was one of the Quidditch players. He was slightly taller than her father, and was in her opinion quite good-looking. He was built like the average beater, but he didn't strike her as being one. Everything about him, even his eyes, suggested agility and keen observation skills.

When she reached the two men, she stood in front of her father and announced:

"I'm here for tryouts Coach."

Both turned towards her and Karkaroff smiled slightly while the other, unnamed man just arched an eyebrow.

"But Karkaroff, you said there _weren't _going to be tryouts," the mystery man said.

"Baranowski, have I ever been mistaken before? No? Well, then what makes you think that's the case now?"

"Well, the girl. She said-"

"I know very well what she said. I have ears that work just as well if not better than your own,"turning towards Acantha he said, "There aren't going to be tryouts today. -"

"That's not fair! You told me to be here," Acantha said, nearing tears of anger.

"Don't interrupt. There aren't tryouts because you've already been drafted. You're stuck with the team. Deal with it." And with that he walked away to talk with another player.

"You must be our new Keeper. I'm Baranowski, the Seeker. It's nice to have new blood on the team."

"I'm Acantha Lestrange-Karkaroff; it's nice to meet you." She smiled, shook the Seeker's hand and went off to meet the rest of the team.

* * *

Promptly at seven o'clock, Karkaroff called the team to order. The seven of them lined up on the center line field in front of the box of balls with their brooms.

"Listen up! I have everyone's attention? Good. Acantha's our newest player, and some new rules are going to be put in place for today's practice," at this, six players groaned and Acantha's cheeks turned scarlet, "Don't be such whiners about it. Today, and only for today, don't hit her with a Bludger, but don't go easy on her by any means. She can handle playing with the rest of you just fine. At tomorrow's practice, she's fair game with the Bludger. Just don't scare her off after only one practice." Everyone chuckled lightly at that, apparently they _had_ scared someone off after only one practice before. Acantha wondered how many Bludger shaped bruises the person had when they left.

"Volkov and Vulchanov, you're still playing Beater; Levski, Dimitrov, Ivanova: you three are Chasers; Baranowski- Seeker; and Lestrange-Karkaroff is playing Keeper. Any questions?" Seeing them shake their heads, he continued, "Good. On your brooms and hit the field!"

* * *

Following the new rule, Volkov and Vulchanov kept the Bludgers away from her, but the Chasers were harder on her than they probably would have been if she were anyone else. The practice Quaffles came one after another and Acantha struggled to keep up. As soon as one Quaffle was blocked and thrown back into play another was tossed towards the opposite post and she had to keep flying from side to side and didn't have any time to catch her breath.

About an hour in to practice, she flew off to the left side of the pitch to get a drink of water from the box that was left floating just past the far goal post. She thought that the team would stop, or at least pause, but they didn't. Ivanova passed Dimitrov the Quaffle and he unhesitatingly threw it at the goal post on the right.

Acantha hadn't let a goal in the whole time she'd been on her broom and she wasn't about to start now. She dropped the water container and leaned forward on her broom. As she sped to reach the goal, the rest of the team stopped and watched in amazement. When she was in arm's length of the ball she leaned off her broom as far as she could and lunged for the Quaffle before it went through the goal post.

She didn't judge the distance properly, and as she grabbed the Quaffle only inches from the goal post, she realized that she wasn't on her broom. She dropped the Quaffle in terror and it floated harmlessly near where her head had been. Acantha however, was quickly plummeting to the ground.

* * *

** (A/N) Wait, what happens now?! I guess we'll all have to wait. I hope everyone's liking Quidditch.**

**A big thanks to my reviewers from the last chapter: Danielle, Masha FF, and thedragonchaser. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	7. Chapter 6: No Chance to Say Goodbye

Chapter 6

She was going to die. That was the only possible outcome. She didn't want to die. She'd never even hexed somebody or mastered the Unforgivable Curses! Damn, she should've followed through with the jinx she wanted to use on Helga.

It didn't seem to be true that when were about to die your life flashed in front of your eyes. At least that isn't what happened to Acantha. She just thought about all the opportunities she missed, all the people that she never told how she felt. Did her Daddy know how she felt about him, how much she respected him? What about her Uncle? She was pretty sure Akelin knew how she felt, she was always pretty clear about it. She never knew her mother, never wanted to, but maybe she should have. She might not ever have _liked_ her, but it might have been nice to know her. She probably should have buried the hatchet as it were with her aunt as well. None of this was really her fault anyway. And Severus, he _definitely _didn't know how she felt. Didn't know that she adored and admired him above all others. She knew about him turning sides in the War after his friend's death, he'd told her about it, and she recognized the amount of courage that must've taken. And once you got past the snarky exterior, he was really a nice guy.

Time seemed to slow down as the grassy ground of the pitch got closer and closer. She wondered briefly why she wasn't really afraid of whatever afterlife there may be, just of dying and leaving everyone behind.

About twenty feet from the ground, she heard a whooshing noise by her ear. She didn't really pay it much mind, it probably wouldn't matter very much in her last few minutes. She did, however notice when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist. The owner of the arms angled the broom upward and was flying toward the stands near the goal posts. She wondered if maybe she was already dead, but that didn't make very much sense at all.

"Next time you decide to pull a stunt like that, make sure your broom stays with you," a deep voice she instantly recognized as belonging to Baranowski said into her ear, "Next time I might not be here to catch you." Acantha relaxed, knowing that she wasn't dead or dying and that she was perfectly safe with the handsome Seeker.

* * *

When they reached the stands, Acantha was struck by the amount of panic her fall had caused. Her father looked beside himself with worry and the team mediwitches were in an absolute tizzy. No one could really tell how she'd be once they stopped her from hitting the ground and it was clear that they all assumed the worst. The rest of the team was hovering between the stands and the goal posts and weren't very worried, but they weren't about to say so, not about their Coach's daughter.

Baranowski landed surprisingly well considering that they were landing in a confined spectator box. As soon as his feet hit the boards of the stands, Karkaroff was rushing over and lifting Acantha off the broom and the mediwitches, who were somewhat slower, were left to scamper along in his wake.

Karkaroff checked Acantha over meticulously for any sign of injury and was so protective of her that the mediwitches barely had an opportunity to do their job. When he was satisfied that she was in perfect order, he sat back and looked at her for a long minute before speaking.

"Acantha, that was by far the _dumbest_ thing I have _ever_ seen _anyone_ do, and I know a hell of a lot of Death Eaters!" Acantha looked quite ashamed of her actions, "But it was also some of the best Quidditch playing I've ever seen, but lets try to keep it on the broom next time. That's what they're for you know." Acantha raised her eyes and grinned. She was so glad that her father wasn't mad at her. She jumped up and threw her arms around her father's neck.

* * *

The rest of practice was canceled for the evening, everyone was a little shaken up over Acantha's near death experience. Igor called the team to the center line before they all left for the evening.

"Alright, today's practice was _eventful_," several players snorted, "I want you all back here tomorrow at the same time though, no excuses."

"Are we gonna get a restraint for Fairy Princess over here so we'll be able to play straight though a game?" Vulchanov joked, Volkov smirking right along with him.

"No, starting tomorrow I think we'll have two new Beaters on the team," Karkaroff snarled.

The Beaters turned bright red, darkening into purple, and just glared. They weren't comfortable being upstaged by a child, they didn't think she should even be on the team as there were much better players out there. Players that had already completed school or at least started.

Karkaroff sent a final warning glare at his Beaters before turning his attention back to the team at large. "You all did pretty well tonight for it being the first practice of the season. Keep up the good work and I'll see you tomorrow. Go get some rest."

After this the team dispersed. Some of them went to the locker room to clean themselves up and change, but others were too tired and apparated right out of the pitch. Acantha did neither and walked up to her father instead.

"Daddy, what's the matter with the Beaters?"

"They think they're better than you, both because you're a girl and you're so young."

"You should've known this would cause problems. I don't think you were thinking quite straight."

"My thought was about the skill of the team and my desire to win the World Cup, not about petty prejudices from people who should have outgrown them."

Acantha nodded that she understood and filed the information away to analyze later. Karkaroff offered her his arm so they could apparate and with a 'pop' they were gone.

* * *

Akelin may have _said _that he wasn't too concerned with getting the play by play of Acantha's first professional Quidditch experience, but it was a lie. He spent the entire time she was gone pacing around his office and when they finally returned to Durmstrang(he felt the anti-apparation wards lower), he made his way to the Headmaster's office. He couldn't go to Acantha's rooms because then he'd have to explain why he was there if he'd said earlier he was impassive on the whole issue.

He arrived to the office just as Karkaroff was hanging up his cloak and outer robes so that he could go to sleep. Karkaroff turned around when her heard the door open and stared at the other man for a moment, gesturing for him to speak.

Akelin took a deep breath before his whole speech came out in a rush. "HowwasAcantha'spractice?Didshedogoodorwasitbadandtheothersmadefunofherandissheok?"

"I'd love to answer you, but to do so I'd have to be able to understand you. Professor Bazhenov, might I suggest that you take a breath every now and again and do try to speak slower."

"Sorry, I'm just kinda stressed and worried. How was practice? Did she do ok, is she ok? The others weren't too mean to her I hope."

"Practice was fine, she's fine and I've dealt with the other players. Anything else you'll have to ask her for yourself. Now if you're quite done, I suggest we both get some sleep; the students arrive tomorrow evening and it wouldn't do for us to be looking like Death warmed over."

"Yes Headmaster," Akelin said and with that walked back to his chambers to ready himself for bed.

* * *

**(A/N) The students will arrive either next chapter or the chapter after, depending on how much I include about the day after Acantha's big Quidditch debut. Reviews are amazing and thanks to Masha FF and Danielle for reviewing the last chapter.**


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